Lurking Shadow
by Maudlin Eyes
Summary: Rae Barone always thought Tashmore Creek safe and subtle. But when a stranger steps upon her doorstep there is no stopping the nightmare arising.Will her best friend, Mort, help her?Or will Shooter get the best of him?Of course there will be some romance!
1. Stranger From Yonder

A/N: Hey! There was a prologue here earlier. But I decided I like this version better. It's also a nice way to start the story. Hope you enjoy this one better. Please review to tell me what you think about the improvement or vice versa. K.O? Thank you bunches!  
  
****  
  
Rae Barone plops down for the first time that evening. Her old, dusty couch enveloping her body. Although it is older than her twenty-five years, it is very comfortable.  
  
While Rae's style is quite opposite her run-down cabin, she does not have the money to improve. Not all authors are lucky enough to hit it big with their first book. Nevertheless, Rae is everything but unhappy.  
  
Rae lets an exasperated sigh release her mouth. Her eyes wander around her shack for something to occupy her time. It is hard to believe that not even two minutes prior she was wishing for time to relax. Her brown eyes fall upon her Grandmother's old, dirty bookshelf.  
  
"Reading never hurts. If I am going to do something, better it be productive."  
  
She chuckles at herself. "Here I go talking to myself again."  
  
Rae starts to hum a happy tune while she scans her many books for something good.  
  
"Let's see.....hmm...." she clicks her tongue indecisively. "The Prayer, read it; A Walk to Remember, seen it; Kiss the Girls, no thank you. Hmm? Ooo! Here's one! Secret Window, Secret Garden!"  
  
She grabs the book and drags her feet back to her couch.  
  
"Funny, I don't remember purchasing this one." She glances at the author. "No wonder, it's by Stephen King." She turns the book over and looks at the picture of him. "Freak," she says with a disgusted look. "Might as well give it a shot."  
  
She opens the book and a stale scent reaches her nose. "Woo! I guess I need to clean a little bit more, huh?" She looks at her dog lying on his bed across the room. "Fine, don't answer me. I guess you'll be getting dry food tonight, Peanut." His ears shoot up and he glances over to her and whimpers. "Ha, ha! I knew that would get your attention."  
  
She begins to read the first page.  
  
Quite suddenly a loud, protrusive knock interrupts her silent reading. She slightly jumps at the unwelcoming sound. Her dog, Peanut, runs into her bedroom. "Wimp!" Rae yells after him.  
  
Again the intruder knocks. This time with more force and growing impatience.  
  
She places her book on her rickety coffee table and trudges to the door.  
  
Again, it knocks.  
  
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" She silently curses at the person's arrogance.  
  
When she reaches the swinging door, she hesitates to open to the lurking shadow before her. She finally gains the courage to open the door.  
  
A man appears in front of her. His shoulders slump and his back arcs downward.  
  
The man before her is cloaked in a long, black jacket and black pants to match. His skin is white with dark brown, matted hair that touches his shoulders. His beard is identical to his hair. Atop his head sits a large, black hat. His green eyes are deep and glazed over.  
  
He smiles. His teeth are crooked and yellowed with age.  
  
Rae shivers. She doesn't know if it is the chilly, autumn night amidst the woods of South Carolina or the appearance this man carries.  
  
"Hello Ma'am. How are you this evenin'?" The man's voice is deep and slow. He pronounces his words with such indulgence. He lingers upon every syllable he speaks.  
  
"My name is Henry Wallace of Richmond. It's a pleasure to meet you."  
  
"Hello, Mr. Wallace. I'm Rae Barone. It's a pleasure to meet you too."  
  
He puts his hand out in gesture for her to shake it. His nails are yellow and brittle; his skin dry and cracked. They are the hands you would see upon a farmer.  
  
Rae hesitates to take his hand but does not want to be impudent.  
  
His grasp his firm. The handshake lasted but a moment. To Rae, it was but a moment too long. A smile grows upon his face once again.  
  
"I don't want to sound impolite, Mr. Wallace, but what is a man from Richmond doing here in Tashmore Creek?" Rae rubs her arms to create friction to warm her body.  
  
"I'm visitin' my family 'cross the river. I was over by this way on account of I was lookin' for some firewood. I decided that I wanted to explore a little."  
  
"Well with that said, why are you knocking on my door at ten o'clock in the evening?"  
  
"You mean to tell me you don't remember?"  
  
"Obviously not."  
  
"You called to me, Ms. Barone. Several times to be exact. I would like to know how you know my name 'fore I told it to you, is all."  
  
Rae's eyebrows arch. "I called to you? Is that what you say? Mr. Wallace, for the past five hours I have been writing my fanny off. Now, if this is your idea of a joke, than you are certainly taking pranks to another level. And anyways, I don't even know you let alone your name." Rae grew agitated.  
  
"But I heard it from yonder." He points deep into the woods behind him.  
  
"This is not funny, Mr. Wallace. I don't doubt that you heard something, but I would like to know why you are on my doorstep accusing me?"  
  
Mr. Wallace steps up onto the second step leading to the entrance where Rae stood.  
  
"No one is around for miles, Missy. So if it ain't you who was callin', than who in the devil was it? Now, I don't mind a funny joke once and 'gain, but I don't like folks messin' with my mind. Now, while I was in those woods choppin' fire wood, I heard a young lady call my name several times. If'n it wasn't you and the only house 'round here is two miles than my imagination is foolin' me. I may be old, Missy, but I's certainly ain't delusional."  
  
Mr. Wallace was now only inches from Rae's face. His breath smells of tobacco and peppermint.  
  
"And I am telling you for the second time that it was not me! Ask my damn dog!"  
  
"Ms. Barone, if you think that I am foolish enough to talk to a dog, than we have a problem here."  
  
"Mr. Wallace, if you think that I am foolish enough for you to convince me that I was calling to you, than we definitely have a problem here. Now, I don't appreciate you disturbing me in the middle of the night making accusations. I apologize for whatever you may have heard, but there is a time to draw the line. That time is now. If you would be so kind as to leave my property and return to your family, it would be much obliged."  
  
With that, Rae closes the door and locks it behind her. She stands off to the side, out of sight until he retreats back to the woods.  
  
"What a whack-job," Rae says to Peanut as he finally comes out of hiding.  
  
"A lot of help you were, Peanut!" He whimpers.  
  
Rae returns to her couch and picks up her book.  
  
Not even two seconds after, her electricity flickers out. "Great."  
  
She gets up and feels for her fireplace. When she reaches it, she searches for wood to burn. None. "Even more great."  
  
Rae whimpers. "Now I have to go outside where the freaky pilgrim was."  
  
She stumbles to the door and unlocks it. Stepping outside, a chilly wind hits her face. She shivers.  
  
A stick cracks from the edge of the woods. She jumps. "Oh man, this sucks," she says in regards to the pitch blackness of the calm forest.  
  
She grabs four pieces of pine and runs back into her cabin. Finally reaching the fireplace, hands shaking, she places the wood in the pit. Searching for the matches, she hears the sound of something fall. Again, she jumps.  
  
Peanut runs over to her and sticks his head in her lap. "It's probably just the wind. It must've knocked over the pile of wood." He licks his lips. "You are a bigger baby than I am."  
  
Again, the noise breaks the silence. This time, there is no soothing her or the dog. "Just breathe. Light this damn fire and breathe."  
  
The faint sound of a female whispering engulfs her ears. "Oh my word. Just breathe, Rae, just breathe."  
  
Again, it whispers. This time, Rae makes out her words.  
  
"Raaaaeee." It was louder this time. "Raaaaeee."  
  
Rae strikes the match and lights the wood as quickly as her tiny hands allow.  
  
The room is finally lit.  
  
Again, the sound of something falling protrudes. Rae glances at her door. She had forgotten to lock it. She dodges to it and clicks the lock as quick as possible. The door starts to shake violently. "Go away!" She screams. "Go the fuck away!"  
  
The door stops shaking and the voices stop calling.  
  
"What the hell was that?" Rae asks her dog. All he does is whimper.  
  
Rae picks up her phone in attempt to call her best friend, Mort Rainey.  
  
Before she dials, she listens for a tone. There is nothing but silence. "Hello?" Again, silence. The line suddenly clicks dead. A dial tone is heard. She shakily dials Mort's number. "555-9012," she says aloud as she dials.  
  
"Hello?" A female voice answers. Rae rolls her eyes.  
  
"Hi, is Mort around?"  
  
"Don't you know what time it is?"  
  
"Put him on, now," Rae snaps. She never liked his girlfriend, Joanne. Joanne had a thing for accusing Rae of everything that went wrong in their relationship.  
  
"Hello?" a deep voice asks. Rae knew that this wasn't the bimbo.  
  
"You are still with her?" Mort laughs at Rae's comment.  
  
"Yes, Rae. I am. Do you realize that it is 10:45 on a Monday night?'  
  
"You act like it's really late."  
  
"For me, it is."  
  
"Big baby."  
  
"What's on your mind?" Mort asks. He can always tell when something is wracking Rae's brain.  
  
"Do you think you could come down here tomorrow afternoon without the bimbo?"  
  
"Sure, why?"  
  
"Something weird is going on down here. I'll tell you all about it when you get here."  
  
"Alright, see you then. Love you."  
  
"Love you, too. Bye." Rae hangs up the receiver.  
  
She looks around the room without moving a single muscle. "Up, Peanut." She gestures for her dog to come up onto the couch. Willingly, he does.  
  
"Maybe it was just that old man trying to scare me." No matter how much Rae tries, she cannot stop thinking about what just happened. She almost shit her pants.  
  
Little does Rae Barone know that something or someone is waiting for her in the woods of South Carolina.  
  
A/N: I did not mean to offend anyone with the Stephen King line. I personally like him, but my character does not. 


	2. Bringing Up the Past

A/N: Wowie Wow Wow! Am I a dork!! An observant reviewer has informed me that there is no Montgomery, SC. Hello? Am I stupid? Don't answer that. I'm thinking that I need to pay a little more attention is History class. No but honestly, I asked my brother's friend, Justin, for a SC city and he told me Montgomery. Now, I am not saying it's not my fault because it is. I'm the dumb one who believed him and didn't know better! Wow! I just surprise myself sometimes. But thank you, to the one who told me. I really, truly, greatly appreciate it.  
  
Thank you to all who reviewed! You give me great motivation!  
  
P.S. Montgomery, Alabama!  
  
**********  
  
Feeling a little better after talking with Mort, Rae retreats to bed. Leaving her door slightly ajar behind her, she pulls down the covers and hops into bed.  
  
At a force of habit she leans over to turn off her night lamp.  
  
"On second thought, I'll leave it on."  
  
Her eyes grow heavy and they begin to close. Finally, they are fully shut.  
  
With her ears overly alert combined with the light from her lamp she cannot fall asleep.  
  
Without warning, her door slowly creaks open. Rae holds her breath and shuts her eyes tighter. She listens for any movement.  
  
She hears the sound of heavy breathing. She feels it hot on her face.  
  
Suddenly, a wet, warm substance grazes her nose.  
  
She jumps as her heart skips a beat. Slowly, Rae opens her eyes. She screams.  
  
*********  
  
"Was that Rae?" Joanne McClellan, Mort Rainey's fiancée, questions.  
  
"Yes," Mort replies. He and Joanne were in bed sleeping when Rae called.  
  
Mort turns on his side, away from Joanne, and annoyingly sighs. He knew what was coming next. Twenty questions and the third degree.  
  
"Why is she still calling you?"  
  
"What do you mean 'still'?" As sharp as his reply was, his turn to face her was sharper.  
  
"I thought after you told her about the incident she broke off all connections?" Mort hated it when she brought up the 'incident'.  
  
Mort returns to his position on his side. "Can we not talk about this right now?"  
  
"No, we can't. I want to know what she wanted. And will you please look at me when I am speaking to you?"  
  
Mort exaggeratedly turns to face her. "Listen Joanne, Rae is my best friend and what we talk about or what happens between us is not your business. Understand?"  
  
"If we are to marry than what goes one between you and her is my business. Your life is my business, Sweetie. Hate to break it to you."  
  
"No, that's where you are wrong. After we marry my life is your business. Until then, stay out of it."  
  
Mort throws the covers off of him and leaves the room.  
  
"Where are you going?" Joanne calls after him.  
  
"Getting a head start on what Rae wants," Mort replies as he enters the study of their New York apartment.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Mort grabs a suitcase from the closet and heads back to the bedroom.  
  
"What do you need that for?" Joanne steps in front of him, blocking his way.  
  
Mort does not answer. He steps aside and continues his quest to pack his suitcase.  
  
"Mort, will you please answer me?!"  
  
He quickly turns around to face the red-faced Joanne. "I am going to Rae's house! Okay? She asked me to come down to see her! There is something going on in those woods and she needs me."  
  
"Fine, but I am going with you." Joanne attempts to turn around and grab a suitcase from their prior location. Mort grasps her shoulder before she can.  
  
"She asked for you not to come."  
  
"What?! Why?"  
  
"I don't know. She didn't say." Mort walks into their bedroom with Joanne hot on his heels. He begins to pack his suitcase.  
  
"No! No way, Mort. I don't trust her!"  
  
"Too bad. I am going and you are not. I won't be gone for long. Besides, your case starts tomorrow."  
  
"I don't care! I will get an extension."  
  
"Your client cannot afford another extension, Joanne! You already requested one when you wanted to come to my mother's house with me!"  
  
"Please, Mort! I really don't trust her."  
  
"No! And that's final, Joanne. I don't want to hear another word!" Mort closes his packed suitcase and heads for the exit.  
  
Joanne steps in front of him. "Make love to me before you go?" She asks innocently.  
  
"Joanne, I am not falling for that again. Now, will you please move out of my way?"  
  
With a puss on her face, she obeys.  
  
"I love you," Mort calls while descending down the stairs.  
  
"I love you, too!" Joanne sighs and sits down on the edge of their bed. She crosses her arms and ponders what to do. She glances at the telephone beside their bed. An idea strikes her mind. "If you won't make love to me, I know someone who will!"  
  
*********  
  
Rae laughs at herself. "Peanut! You scared the crap out of me!" Rae blushes at her pathetic scream.  
  
The wet, warm substance was her dog's tongue. He had given her a kiss to get her attention.  
  
She pets the top of his head and he gives her another kiss. This time his tongue grazed her chin. "Up, Peanut." Rae motions for Peanut to climb up on the open area beside her. On any normal night Peanut would be sleeping in his bed on the floor. But under the circumstances, Rae will feel safer with his fluffy form beside her.  
  
"Good doggy," Rae coos while kissing him on the top of his head.  
  
With her companion beside her, Rae attempts to achieve a good night's sleep.  
  
********  
  
Frustrated, Mort throws his suitcase into the backseat of his gray Jeep Grand Cherokee. He hops behind the wheel and reaches into his coat pocket for his keys.  
  
Feeling nothing but the cloth of his cloak, he grumbles. "Great start, Rainey."  
  
He jumps out of the car and slams the door behind him. Feeling a tad more frustrated, he storms back into the house. While reaching for his keys nigh the staircase, he hears the giggle of his fiancée.  
  
"What in the devil?" He asks himself in regards to Joanne's peculiar behavior.  
  
As quiet as possible her climbs the marble stairs leading to the hallway of the second floor. He reaches their bedroom door and listens carefully to what his fiancée is doing.  
  
"Mort just left. Yes, he left for the night." By the sounds of it, Joanne is on the phone. "Actually, he left for a few days. So, you know what that means don't you?" Mort was beginning to become suspicious of Joanne's conversation. "Yes, of course. But only if you bring the handcuffs." Again she giggles. "See you at midnight, Sweetie. Bye."  
  
Mort hears the sound of her hanging up the receiver. He debates on whether or not he should confront her. He decides against it. "Another time," he whispers.  
  
Mort cannot bring himself to be angry. One would think that he would be angry beyond belief. But despite his love for Joanne, he feels nothing but relief.  
  
"Strange," he says while walking down the driveway towards his Jeep. "My mind is elsewhere," he reassures himself. Deep down, he knows that is not the answer. A greater feeling is submerging in him; a feeling that has not been touched since his days in the cabin; a feeling that was created when he met Rae.  
  
* Mort is painting his cabin when he spots her; medium height, slender, long light brown hair, a gorgeous build. She's wearing tight, black jeans and a pink top. "Wow," he says to himself. She is standing in his driveway with his realtor. He had forgotten about his open house today.  
  
His realtor, Mrs. White, is an old, kind woman. She is on the brink of retirement. She has been such a help with finding a buyer for him.  
  
"Hello? Mr. Rainey? Are you home?" She calls.  
  
Mort struggles to descend down the ladder. "C-coming!" He nervously yells. He is praying in his own mind that this knock-out is a buyer.  
  
Mort stumbles around the corner, paintbrush in hand. "Mr. Rainey this is Rae Barone. She is very interested in your cabin."  
  
"You are?" Rae nods. "Great!" Mort exclaims.  
  
"I love how peaceful the terrain is. And I always wanted to live by a lake."  
  
"I insisted that she come down. I overheard her talking with Michelle at the shop." Mrs. White refers to their waitress/friend down at the coffee shop in town. "I just had to get her down here!"  
  
"Well, I have to say, Mrs. White, I'm glad you did," Rae says.  
  
"I as well." Mort was more than glad, he was ecstatic. If he could sell his cabin within the week, than he could move in with his fiancée, Joanne.  
  
"Well, we should be getting on with it then," Mrs. White interrupts Rae's gaze upon the house.  
  
"Right. And if I want to be done painting by nightfall, I should be getting back to my task." Mort turns towards Rae. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope I will see you again." Mort holds out his hand in a kind gesture. Without hesitation, Rae accepts.  
  
"The pleasure is all mine," she replies. *  
  
That was not the last time they saw each other. With the intentions of purchasing Mort's cabin, Rae had helped him touch up a few things. Of course, it was at the expense of Mort. But within the period of three weeks, the cabin looked great. On top of that, Mort and Rae became very good friends. Although Mort held deeper feelings, he knew it could never be.  
  
In the eyes of Joanne, they became too close. But Mort insisted that it was all innocent. And it was.  
  
Within a year of their friendship, Mort confided in Rae; telling her of Amy, Teddy, and Shooter. He told her the story of his menacing past. Rae was so overwhelmed with the story that she didn't call him for months. Mort was devastated.  
  
After a harmful period of three months, Rae finally phoned him; telling him that she needed that time to gain her bearings and priorities. She told him that she realized that that was his past and not his present. She said that she couldn't judge him based upon his mistakes, as horrible as they were. She confessed that she was scared for her own life and that maybe Shooter was not gone for good. Joanne had convinced Mort that he was as did Mort convince Rae. Their friendship went on from that moment because of Mort's understanding of how Rae felt towards it all.  
  
Although they live hundreds of miles away, their bond is strongly held.  
  
Mort smiles as he thinks of the past events between he and Rae. He starts his car, and heads to the airport. He prays that there is a ticket and a flight waiting for him.  
  
A/N: That's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it. Please review. Thanks a bunches to those who already did. I am very, very grateful! 


	3. Maggy and the Black Suede Shoe

A female looms in front of her, screaming. She is tall with flowing blond hair. Her eye sockets are empty, hollow. Her complexion is pale, almost like milk. She wears nothing. She slinks, naked.  
  
'He killed Amy. He didn't just kill Teddy like he told you, he killed Amy too. He lied. He buried there bodies in the garden. You will find the truth in the garden! Look! Dig!'  
  
Her mouth is curled back as she screams. Her stamina is frightening, bone chilling.  
  
Rae wakes with a scream. She's sweating. She shivers and looks down at her body. She had thrown off her covers during her nightmare.  
  
"Holy shit," she remarks, short of breath.  
  
She glances at her dog. He is still sleeping.  
  
Rae gets out of bed and walks over to her window overlooking the garden. It is filled with dead cornstalks. "It was just my imagination." Rae believes that the night's events had brought her to that dream. Her heart disagrees.  
  
In her dream they were standing in front of her fireplace. On the walls, the word 'shooter' was engraved everywhere. On the coffee table sat a black hat.  
  
Rae contemplates on whether she should poke around in the garden. She glances at Peanut again. She sighs. She does not want to wake him yet she does not want to leave him alone.  
  
Rae decides that he is better off up here that way he won't make a racket barking.  
  
She looks at her clock. It is only one-thirty. "I have plenty of time before Mort arrives, maybe I'll dig a little." Her curiosity is getting the best of her.  
  
"I feel like I am betraying my best friend," Rae says while she ties her shoelaces to her sneakers. "The truth shall set you free," Rae recites. "Yeah, right."  
  
Rae grabs a flashlight from her nightstand and hurries down her staircase. She snatches a coat beside her door. She hesitates to step into the muggy, dark night. Gathering her courage, she steps outside. She walks over to her shed and picks up the shovel resting against it.  
  
"Here goes nothing." Before Rae begins to dig, she pulls up some of the cornstalks. "I don't know why I am doing this."  
  
After pulling up about six cornstalks, she begins to dig.  
  
Growing bored with digging, she starts to sing.  
  
"Winter, spring, summer, or fall; all you got to do is call. And I'll be there, yes I will. You've got a friend. If the sky above you should turn dark and full of clouds and that old north wind should begin to blow. Keep your head together and call my name out loud and soon I'll be knocking upon your-"  
  
Her shovel contacting something that does not carry the feeling of dirt interrupts her singing. Rae drops her shovel and reaches for her flashlight. She shines the dimming light upon the unknown object. At first, it is hard to make out. Her eyes adjust to the lack of light and she makes out the form. She gasps.  
  
"Holy shit." She bends down and picks up the dark piece of treasure that she came upon. It was a woman's black, suede shoe. Size eight. "Oh my God."  
  
*******  
  
Mort reaches the airport in record time. He left his house at 12:16 and it is now 1:12. He parks his car in a spot closest the entrance. Dragging his suitcase behind him, he walks through the revolving doors.  
  
Upon his entering, he spots an open desk. He approaches the aging woman. "Excuse me, Ma'am?" The woman had obviously not recognized his presence. Her nose is buried in a book. The title is "How to Achieve Spunk after Menopause". Mort shivers, apparently disgusted. He exaggeratedly clears his throat. She looks up. She places her book down and plasters a fake smile upon her wrinkly face. Her teeth are yellow and her eyes have lost their shine.  
  
"Hello, how are you this night?" Her voice is shaky and old.  
  
"I was wondering if there are any flights leaving to South Carolina within the hour?" Mort pushes his falling glasses back up his nose.  
  
"Well, let's see." Mort reads the woman's nametag. Her name is Maggy.  
  
"Appropriate," Mort whispers to himself. He may have whispered louder than he intended.  
  
"Excuse me, did you say something?" She asks sweetly, glancing at him over the rim of her red, thick framed glasses.  
  
"Oh, err, no I'm sorry. I was just thinking aloud." She carries on without questioning any further.  
  
Mort begins to click his tongue impatiently. Maggy strikes him an annoying look. "Oh, sorry." Mort smiles. She, however, is not amused. "I just have to use the bathroom." He tries to gain back some dignity. But all is lost.  
  
"The lavatory is across the lobby and to your right. You are welcome to use it. Perhaps when you return, I will be done with my search." Her aggravation is now apparent.  
  
"Oh, um, thanks. I'll be right back." Mort lugs his suitcase to the bathroom. "Thanks for nothing, you old hag."  
  
Mort walks right past the urinals and straight to the sink. Upon arriving, he drops his luggage.  
  
He takes off his thick glasses and turns on the faucet. He splashes cold water onto his perfectly chiseled face.  
  
"I am not looking forward to this," he sighs as he dries his face. Mort is a little nervous about returning to his old cabin. A few months after he moved in with Joanne, he realized that he never tore out his cornstalks. He didn't want to even glimpse the sight of those, especially since it will spark some unwanted memories. He is silently praying that Rae did it herself.  
  
Mort picks his luggage back up and flushes a toilet so as not to look obvious. He walks out the door and past the vending machines. He stops dead in his tracks and searches his pants for change.  
  
Relieved, he retrieves seventy-five cents from his pocket. He turns to the snack machines and purchases his favorite junk food, Doritos. He stuffs the delicious chips into his coat pocket and heads back to the receptionist.  
  
He notices that Maggy is back to reading her infamous book. "Did you find any flights?" Mort politely questions.  
  
She glances up at him and places her book to the side. "It is your lucky day, Mr. Rainey, there is one seat left on the 2:00 flight."  
  
Butterflies flutter in his stomach as he hears her speak his name. Sometimes he forgets that he is a famous author. Otherwise, he would be a little freaked out. "Thank God. I really need to get down there tonight. How much for the ticket?"  
  
"Two-hundred and seventy-five dollars."  
  
"What?! Why so much?"  
  
"First class is the only opening. All the coach seats are taken."  
  
In all of his traveling, Mort has never ridden first class. He contemplates and decides that, as much as he is not looking forward to it, he would do anything to get down there tonight. "Fine. Do you take VISA?" Mort sighs. This night is not getting any better.  
  
A/N: Ta da! Tell me what you think, pretty please? ;)  
  
A/N again: Music please! Dun dun da da dun, dun dun da da dun, dun da da da.............  
  
Adrienne's weird personality: Thank you to all of my reviewers! I love you all! May peace and good health be among you!  
  
Adrienne's normal personality: Shut up you stupid cow! You sound like a freakin' priest. *looks to readers* What she is trying to say is thank you bunches and your reviews are much obliged. *whispers* Don't mind her, she is very weird. (hence the title)  
  
Adrienne's weird personality: I heard that!  
  
Adrienne's normal personality: Uh oh! Gotta run! *runs away*  
  
Adrienne's weird personality: *chases after her while saying* Review ye scabrous dogs!  
  
Adrienne's normal personality: *keeps running while saying* She doesn't mean that! 


End file.
